


A Study In Purple Shirts

by seducingtimelords



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Holmes Brothers, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft's Umbrella
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seducingtimelords/pseuds/seducingtimelords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock becomes increasingly fascinated by one Mycroft Holmes</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study In Purple Shirts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cyulitia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyulitia/gifts).



"I'm sure you'll understand this is a matter of national importance, brother dear," Mycroft was saying. Sherlock wasn't paying much attention. He was thoroughly fixated on the perfect curve of Mycroft's arse, the way he fake smiled at him as if he were a 5-year-old child being told off by his mother.  
"Mycroft, would you shut the fuck up? Just for me?"  
Taken aback, Mycroft turned to stare him full in the face, shocked.  
"I'm sorry? I didn't realise the security of our country was of such little importance to you."  
Sherlock mimicked Mycroft's cocky little smile. "No, brother dear, I'm much more interested in the contents of your underpants."  
At first, Mycroft stared at Sherlock in horror. But then his icy expression melted into one of his rare true smiles. "Me too," he murmured. "Me too."

Sherlock was rather taken aback. For all his deductive ability and cleverness, he had never seen this coming.  
Mycroft stepped towards his younger brother, arms outstretched. Sherlock made to step into his embrace, but turned at the last second to pull off his shirt.  
"You won't be needing that where we're going, brother dear."

Mycroft scoffed. "And where exactly are we going?"  
"Wait and see," murmured Sherlock as he slipped around the back of him, running his hand around his body. To be honest, Sherlock was still a little surprised at his brother's willingness. But truth be told, Mycroft had been the closest thing he had to a friend. Or, at least until John came along. "Would you mind removing your clothing, brother dear? There is a little something I need to investigate."  
"Make me."  
"Bastard," Sherlock hissed through his teeth, and caught his brother around the waist with strong, iron arms. His tongue traced his brother's neck with the ferocity of a warrior, sucking tenderly on his skin, pulling on his earlobes with his teeth, whispering in seductively into his hair. Mycroft moaned, rather uncharacteristically. 

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"  
"Just a little experiment, brother mine."  
"Sherlock..." He paused. "Oh, fuck it," Mycroft said, exasperated. He turned and started undoing Sherlock's purple shirt of sex, his fingers like snakes creeping over skin. "You do understand that you are perfect, don't you, Sherlock? Nothing compares to you."

"That is...a true compliment, coming from you."  
Mycroft stopped to think for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it," he replied.  
Sherlock offered him one of those rare true smiles he had previously reserved just for John, and quick as his deductions reached up to kiss him. 

Mycroft was a little surprised at first, but then decided he didn't mind, because this was perfection, this was heaven. He returned the kiss, leaning in to Sherlock, running his hands along the dip in his back, savouring his rather delectable taste.

Suddenly he can't stand it anymore, this tension, this feeling that they both know, that something is missing, but neither of them is particularly willing to make the move. After what seems like a small infinity Sherlock pulls away, stars shining in his eyes, his cheeks flushed with arousal. "Enough of this frolicking," he says. Mycroft can barely make out the low thrum of his voice. "What are you suggesting, brother mine?"  
"Let me show you."

He leans forward and joins their lips in rather unholy union. His tongue slithers between Mycroft's teeth and flickers back and forth. He grinds his hips against Mycroft's, rocking back and forth. Mycroft is astonished at how good his brother is. "I wonder where he got the practice," he thought. "Must have been that Adler woman." He jolts with pleasure as Sherlock slips a spidery white hand down the back of his pants and squeezes his butt cheek. With his other hand, he rips off his pants, leaving him standing naked but for his underwear. Seemingly frustrated by clothing he tears his off his own as well and dumps them in the corner. They seemed perfectly content to stay like this, so they did, or at least until Sherlock's patience wore thin. He broke away from their embrace and pulled of his brother's underwear. "Stay," he mutters. He rushes into the next room and returns completely naked, holding a potato.


End file.
